


Harder to Heal

by DraiochtEve



Series: Japhinne is Heathen for Troublemaker [7]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Crying, Elezen Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), F/M, Fear, Flashbacks, Healing, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Miqo'te (Final Fantasy XIV), No Sex, Non-Consensual Bondage, Original Character(s), POV Third Person, Panic Attacks, Past Torture, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Rope Bondage, Trauma, Will add tags as I think of them, attempted self-bondage, reckless raha, stop raha from sacrificing his well being for someone else 2k20
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:00:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23441338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DraiochtEve/pseuds/DraiochtEve
Summary: It had been clear to G'raha that his lover had been holding back on specific desires she has for his own comfort. As time has passed, however, he can't help but feel like he has failed her for his trauma related short comings and has denied her what she deserves in a lover. This leads to a reckless attempt at forcing himself to adjust and Japhinne's growing concern over his lack of caring for his own safety and well being.This is intended to be a 3 chapter story.It’s not the same rope.G’raha repeated in his mind.She would never do what he did. It’s over.
Relationships: G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Warrior of Light
Series: Japhinne is Heathen for Troublemaker [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1508594
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	Harder to Heal

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a bit raw and a bit of my soul in itself, but I felt the need to get it on paper. Please be mindful of the tags.

The shortness of G’raha’s breath was almost immediate as his fingertips brushed against the bundle of braided twine. It had taken a while to find it as it was not resting where Japhinne had last left it. Had she used it and failed to return it to its usual spot in her chest of deviant goods? Or had she hidden it away to prevent him from finding it; from stumbling across it again and locking down as he did before?

  
He suspected a mix of both.

  
G’raha knew why she had it. It was to be expected based on her sexual preferences and she kept it no secret. Many times she had boasted in casual conversation to her tying abilities and was intricate patterns she could decorate a willing body with. In a wine-induced buzz, she poetically recalled how wonderous a bound body at her submission was. When he had first heard her brag all those years ago in Mor Dhona, he found himself intrigued and wondered just what it felt like. It would be a poor lie to say that once or twice he hadn’t tried it on himself during quiet nights in his tent. Even then, he wasn’t sure what to make of it and assumed in practice with a partner it was much better.  
  
Unfortunately, his next taste of the rope was far too bitter and was little more than a disgusting piece of rotted food stuck between one's teeth. If it had been her, he supposed it would have been different. Had it been Japhinne’s careful attentiveness and careful easing, this woven hemp may have had a different power over him. Would he be mewling for it? Would he consider it a friend and cherish the marks it left behind in his flesh much like he cherished the love nips she regularly left on his torso and thighs?  
  
The miqo’te sighed as he conceded he’d likely never know unless he surpassed this hurdle. It all seemed so simple. Move on from that past and focus on the now. He had to. He was failing her by not and that wasn’t acceptable. G’raha wanted to be the perfect lover for her. He wanted to give her all she ever wanted and more. It was as necessary as breathing, which he wasn’t doing a very good job of now as he forced himself to properly inhale. 

Japhinne wasn’t _him_. He wasn’t _there_ anymore. This apartment room was a safe haven. He was _safe_.

  
G’raha swallowed as he gripped the rope and slowly eased it out of the cabinet, being careful to not knock over the copious amounts of bottles and jars it had been concealed by. The fact that he was digging through her belongings made him feel ill enough as it was. The elezen always welcomed him to treat her quarters as his own, but it still was crossing a line he had placed for himself. Truth be told, he had crossed it once or twice before, but those reasonings were far more innocent and earnest. He tried to convince himself this was just as sincere of a matter, but the guilt of how much he had to scavenge through poked at him like several needles. He’d clean up the apartment immediately, he swore. She’d be none the wiser.  
  
Brushing over the last obscuring jar, the bundle was finally in his possession and resting innocently in his hand. Instantaneously, his throat tightened with a sickening unease. For a heartbeat, he wondered how long he would have to deal with such an anxiety-induced sensation once the crystal crept further up his neck. For another beat, he wished it would happen now so he would not suffer it. And lastly, he conceded he’d miss too badly what kisses Japhinne could manage on the flesh that remained and banished the thought away.  
  
Gingerly, he placed the rope in his lap and examined it. It wasn’t the same color that the ropes used before was nor was it made of the same material. It was handmade by his love, dyed a brilliant purple and woven with careful fingers. He tried to focus on that fact as his own fingers trembled over the braids. Despite the obvious differences, they were the same pattern and the same thickness. The longer he held it, the heavier it seemed in his lap as if it was multiplying. 

_It’s not the same rope._ G’raha repeated in his mind. _She would never do what he did. It’s over._ _  
_

_  
_He realized he was barely breathing again and forced a shaky inhale followed by a shakier exhale. Again, he breathed and tried to push the bad memories out of his mouth with the air. Frustratingly, they lingered like a branding in his thoughts. Perhaps, with enough stubbornness, he could force the scar to heal. He was reminded of all the times his mother forced him to eat vegetables he didn’t care for over and over until he could tolerate the taste and texture. He hoped the same method could apply despite how miserable of an experience that was.

  
He had to try.

  
The rope bundle rotated in his hands as he looked for the end that held it securely in place. It was wrapped tightly and meticulously to hold a professional form you’d see in a shop. To the untrained eye, one might think it were brand new, but he knew better. Slight nicks in the weave and scuffs in the coloring told plenty enough if the hidden kink near the outer wrapping didn’t give away its history. Oh, who had it bound in the past and how many? What patterns had it made? Could he accept its embrace on his skin?  
  
The end finally located, he wiggled it free and unwound an arm’s length and a half. He hadn’t meant the half, but it tumbled from his grip and rolled out the excess wrapping that tied the bundle together. It made a rather messy pile in front of him now that it was liberated and he hoped he could recreate its original form before Japhinne returned. 

Pupils dilated on the pile and he fought back a vision of rope swarming around his feet with a large, gloved hand around his throat. The back of his neck was hot now and he swore he could feel blood trickling down his forehead. In a panic, he reached up to feel and the apparition was gone. As he lowered his hand, all that coated it was clear sweat though he wasn’t sure if it was from his palm or forehead. Likely both.

  
 _I’m not there anymore..._ _  
_

_  
_Unconvinced by his own words, G’raha took the rope in crystal hand and gently draped it across his flesh wrist. A queasy sensation struck his belly and he swallowed down what felt like bile rising in his throat. A smack of his lips made him very aware of how dry his mouth was and that he hadn’t been breathing through his nose. The miqo’te shook his hand to shoo off the offending object and sighed in relief as the contact ended. As quickly as ease came, so did self-loathing. He had barely lasted a second of mere contact.  
  
“Come on, Raha...you can’t keep doing this! It's been _months_ . It’s _just_ rope!” he said aloud hoping it would have more impact than his internal dialogue. His ears drooped as the words left his lips and he forced himself to look at the coiled strand again. In his peripheral vision, he could see his hands quivering as they rested on his lap and he ignored them like the pests they were. This would be far easier if they would comply. 

_This would be easier if it hadn't happened at all._ _  
_

_  
_With a clenching of his fists, G’raha closed his eyes and thought of the serene horizon he and Japhinne admired as the sun had set the day before. She had been behind him, arms wrapped protectively around his arms and chest while she rested her chin on top of his head. He could imagine the rope as her hands that liked to grip his wrist to raise it for a kiss. However, as he blindly reached and secured the rope in his hand once more, the pleasant image wavered.

Stubbornly, he yanked it in front of his mind and looped the rope around his wrist as quickly as one would rip off an adhesive bandage. Before his nerves could finish sending the signal of the hemp threads rubbing against his skin, he made a sloppy knot and focused on the memory of her tight grip and how warm she was. Much to his dismay, the impression was not similar at all and the comforting world he summoned shattered with a drop of his heart.  
  
All at once he became hyper-aware of everything touching him. His robes, his decorative leather straps, his shoes, the braid of his hair, and the hard flooring against his ankles. 

And that vile rope.

The rope was there. It was _there_. 

Cold and unfeeling and _suffocating_. 

It wasn’t a figment of his mind he could banish away. No. It was there and the weight of it had him convinced his wrist would snap. The dumb motions of his crystalline fingers tried to undo it with disgust, but the threads only seemed to tighten the more he struggled with it. He wasn’t breathing now as he attempted to pull it off like a bangle, but unlike a bangle, this would not slip over the crushed form of his flesh hand. It squeezed and refused to give.

Panic set into his being as he fought with it vainly and the whine of its threads mocked him as they did all those months ago. He was trapped and dying. His love was dying. The worlds were dying. Everything he had suffered for was crumbling all around him again.  
  
Darkness pooled in his vision and he couldn’t see around the room to find something to destroy his captor. His legs attempted to move him towards anything to help, but the real world had become a deep-sea of uncertainty which he could not navigate without his sight. Each struggling kick granted the tightening of his bonds and the burning of friction on his flesh. Paralysis was taking hold.  
  


  
_“You’re a determined one, aren’t you?”_

  
  


He gasped and whimpered as a nauseating familiar voice tugged his ears. 

  
  


_“Your fight is over. I’m done with your games.”_ _  
__  
__  
_That gloved hand grabbed his throat once more and his eyes shot open to see Emet-Selch towering over him like an eclipse. He could taste the iron of his blood in his mouth and feel his wounded gut twist inside out with another punch. The pain of serpentine ropes burned his skin as they coiled and climbed higher and higher, bringing tears to his eyes.

  
  


_“F-Fuck you!”_ G’raha had spat out as he forced the blood in Emet’s face with a slick splat. His own voice rang out clear as the day he had spoken them at the ascian despite not feeling his lips move. It played out as if he were merely a rider in his body not in control of his interactions, but the panic and brink of death still seemed all too immediate. It was all replaying again detail by detail and he was stuck reliving it.  
  
He whined as he felt a second punch and the hand tightened in determination to break the crystal that was preventing his neck from snapping. The echo of his brave and fighting voice swam around him like a fog as he recalled each insult he hissed out at the ascian. And each recollection brought a flood of pain and torture as the ascian’s anger grew.  
  
  
 _“How did you do it?! Tell me immediately and I may let your friends live!”_ Emet’s bargain rang out with a twisted undertone of hatred in it.

  
  


_“Get fucked!”_ G’raha had replied with just as much hatred back. He felt that fury, that pure resentment, just as strongly as he had the moment he realized what had happened after his plan was felled by a cheating bullet. That anger had fueled him through so many of those near murderous days. He found, however, that such driving forces were bound to his flashback and all he was left with once the motion passed was the damaging aftermath of trauma.

Emet scowled at the response and yanked his calculated hand away with a sharp jerk of his shoulder. It gave G’raha barely a second to recover and another second to prepare for what he knew was about to come.  
  
Those execrated fingers posed with middle finger and thumb pressing together and yellow eyes glowed violently like a wildfire. With a friction generated snap, mana left its host and summoned magicked fetters to aid the ropes in breaking his willpower. _  
  
_

_  
_“Please...s-stop…” his true voice bawled as the ropes rippled and tore his skin away from the crystal latched in it. Boiling tears spilled down his cheeks and threatened to drown him as the vividness of the nightmare exploded. He was the internal body that had been screaming at him through all those nights that it hurt and he wanted it all over. The voice that had wished he had managed to toss himself into the rift and prevented all this torment. He had put on such a brave face then, stifling that scared miqo’te, when deep down he was truly terrified. Even now, months after, he still felt terrified. G’raha Tia, the Crystal Exarch, was nothing more than a scared kit bawling for his suffering to end. Some hero he was.  
  
Snot and blood dripped down to his chin as he prepared for the next blow when suddenly a bright light pierced his sight. There was a muffled voice and the flashback began to blur like a watercolor painting around him. He should have been relieved, but it scared him even the more as the twine snakes were as abusive as they were before. His heart pounded in his ears as numbness started to claim his limbs. Limply he fell to the cold floor, accepting his endless punishment and letting out his last breath to cry,  
  


  
“...help…

...me…”  
  
  


G’raha looked around in the newly formed twilight absentmindedly as he registered his body was in motion. Someone was there, moving him and swaying him. The bile he had been fighting rumbled back up his throat and he failed to keep it down as it evacuated his body. Whoever had him was turning him onto his side to prevent him from choking. He attempted to thank them, but all that came from his throat was a strangled whimper.  
  
Something rough and dry touched his lips to wipe away the vomit and he was moved again somewhere more warm and tender. His new surroundings were a stark contrast to the sting of sudden cold metal on his wrist. The miqo’te didn’t fight nor did he lash about as the ropes dug into his skin harder like thorny vines. Its source was being assaulted and the rest of the swarm showed their displeasure by attempting to break him one last time. A new wave of tears escaped his vacant eyes as he wept loudly into the haze of light and the mother bond audibly snapped with a forceful pull.  
  
The tension in G’raha’s body released all at once and he inhaled sharply with the dissipation of the nightmare. Once by one his senses came back to him. First taste, which gods he needed to rinse out his mouth. Then sound as his ears perked with the worried voice of Japhinne calling his name with desperation and fear. That was a rarity to hear her talk with fear. Then touch and balance, which signaled to him he was safe in her arms and now being carried bridal style elsewhere. Then finally, sight. His heart rose and sank as her face became clearer. Never had he had been so happy to see her, except perhaps when Hades had been defeated and she stood there alive and well before him. But never had he felt such lament and sadness in seeing her cry so intensely and look willing to trade anything for peace. 

  
  


“Raha?! Answer me! Are you okay? Please! Fucking Twelve, you know I don’t care about you that much, but please bring him back to me!”

  
  
G’raha couldn’t restrain the small smile from hearing her try to bargain with the gods and weakly he raised a hand up to wipe a make-up mixed tear off her face.  
  


“Raha!” Japhinne said with a trembling sob in her tone and she carefully cradled him in her arms as she sat on the bed. The elezen was massaging his wrist, the one he had foolishly tried to self bind, and covering his face in a flurry of kisses. The loving gestures pulled him farther out of his panic-induced fog and he curled himself more into the heat of her body.  
  


“I’m sorry…” he whispered with a sniff and more tears as reality crashed into him like books falling off a shelf. He tensed with each mental barrage of his failures.  
  


  
It was just rope.

  
  
And he couldn’t do it.

He couldn’t be her everything. He would always be lacking.  
  
  


“Gods, Raha! What possessed you to do that to yourself?! How did you even find it? How long were you...oh fuck, you tore this place apart...Raha…” Japhinne scolded and gasped in disbelief. A timid whimper was muffled against her chest as he hid from his shame, ears pinned down and tail retreating between his legs. “Oh...darling…”  
  
  


Was she pitying him? Surely, she had to be with how weak he was. So weak as to not handle a single loop of braided rope around a single wrist. Not both. Not even properly bound. He was defeated. He was more than defeated. He was-  
  


  
“Raha, look at me. Please, darling. Let me see your eyes.”

  
  
He ignored her at first not wanting to see the sadness and sympathy in her expression, but the gentle kisses on his ears made him want to lift his head up for more on his face. He craved for a kiss on the lips moreso, but didn’t wish to have her deal with the revolting taste that lingered on his tongue and lips. With a sorrowful exhale, he raised from her tear-stained shirt and met her gaze. He blinked back the water in his eyes and frowned at the clear worry on her face.  
  


Japhinne dove into his eyes, trying to read every pain and every second of his past that was plaguing him as well as what was harming him now. Slender fingers caressed his cheek and a gentle thumb brushed away a stain of liquid. She breathed slowly for a few seconds before finally speaking again, “Why did you do that, Raha?”

  
  
It wasn’t a question he wanted to answer, but he knew she already knew so why dance around the subject? After all, she saw him trapped in an illusion on the floor like a helpless calf. He had vomited and wept. The low point had been touched more than once.  
  


  
“I...I…” he fumbled with the words as he tried to figure out the best reply, “I just wanted to give you what you wanted.”  
  


  
Her eyebrows knitted together and his eyes darted down to her stack of necklaces to avoid her confronting look.  
  
  


“What I wanted? Raha, I don’t want you sacrificing your well being for something as stupid as-”

  
  
“It’s not stupid if you want it.” G’raha stated plainly and with such little emotion that it made Japhinne shiver.

Firmly and almost painfully, she grabbed his chin and jerked his head up so he had no choice but to look her in the eye. It made him gasp and a small breeze of fear tickled up his back. Her eyes were darker than normal. Not the hue, but the light inside them that seemed to always glisten no matter the time of day. She was upset. She was furious.  
  
  


“I don’t want _it_ if it comes at the price of hurting you.” Japhinne spoke through gritted teeth, “I thought I made this clear when you tried to offer your life again to send everyone back. I fucking meant it then and I _fucking_ mean it now. _I_ **_don’t_** _want it._ ”

  
  


Tears bubbled over and rained down his face as his lips twisted into a pout. His supporting muscles gave out as he fell against her and he slipped from her grasp onto her shoulder with a sob. The elezen’s arms wrapped him up tight in their comforting warmth and steadiness, despite the clear tremble in her body, and he clung to her as if his life depended on it. 

  
  


“B-But…” he interjected.

  
  


“No.”

  
  
“I just want to-” he tried once more.  
  


  
“I know you do, Raha. I know. But it isn’t worth it.” she whispered as she kissed the corner of his jaw, “You’re far too precious to me. I can’t....I can’t see you like that again.”

  
  


The fragile tone of her voice caused a well in his chest to overflow and his world seemed steady again. This entire debacle had struck her core. Honestly, it had struck both of them in their core in a way that he felt synced their natural hum of aether to each other. All afternoon, he had sworn they were off-kilter and he needed to fix it by conquering this one thing. How could he not manage to provide Japhinne with her every desire and yet feel so overwhelmingly adored? He couldn’t process it.  
  
Silence fell between them as Japhinne cuddled him tight and rocked back and forth with him like a mother soothing a child. She was even careful not to touch the spot on his back where the bullet that led to his week of torture pierced him. It made him feel frail that she had to take such steps to avoid a painful memory from resurfacing. If only he were stronger. If only she didn’t have to walk on eggshells for him.  
  


  
“Japhinne?”  
  


  
“Yes?”  
  


G’raha debated if he really should be asking questions right now, but ultimately his curiosity won him over.

  
  
“Did...you have to cut it?”  
  


  
The air was still and tense around them as he awaited her reply, his heart pounding against his chest with worry.  
  


  
With a slightly agitated tone, she replied, “What does it matter, Raha?”

  
“You made it. It was your favorite. You’ve had it for a long time.” he listed off the reasons as if they were what mattered the most at this exact time. That alone bothered her and he could tell with how she was digging her fingers into his sides.  
  
  
“It’s rope. There is still enough to use and again, it’s _just rope_ .”  
  
  
 _Just rope. Just_ ** _rope_** _._

That reminder caused his chest to quiver with dry sobs and frustration as his ears harshly pinned to his skull. The tight feeling in his throat returned and with a cry of anguish he yelled, “Then why couldn’t I do it?! Why can it control me in ways it was never intended?! Why-”  
  


He was muffled with a harsh, pain-filled kiss and he pushed Japhinne away as soon as he registered what was happening. “D-Don’t. I still haven’t washed my mouth,” he argued and covered his lips with his crystal hand. He had already ruined her day enough, he couldn’t bear to add more onto it due to his actions.

  
Japhinne’s moue preceded her rubbing her face with exhaustion and worry. Her aqua eyes read the room as she tried to figure out the right thing to say. Just anything to comfort him and bring him back to reason.  
  


  
“Darling, what you went through is more than most have taken in their lifetime. I’m sorry I have to be blunt, but you were tortured. You were subjected to so much and it left its wounds. It happens to everyone in some way. You know, I can’t eat pickled beets without feeling sick for the rest of the day? I can’t even smell the things without being thrown off.”

  
  


G’raha’s brows furrowed and he tilted his head questioningly at her. Following his unheard inquiry, she continued,  
  


  
“My uncle used to eat them a lot and after dinner is normally when he’d go off on one of his fits. I still can’t fully remove the association despite nothing being wrong with the beets themselves. It’s just...it’s just how my mind processed it. And hell, that wasn’t my fault, just like how this isn’t yours.”  
  


The miqo’te had heard and even witnessed through his mirror these “fits” her uncle often went on when he didn’t get his way. Japhinne was often on the receiving end having been so rebellious and a thorn in his side for not following his every command. The thought of his face alone made G’raha’s stomach twist in knots and his fist clench. He sighed before returning his focus on her eyes and the sad crooked smile on her lips.

  
“And I’m not saying what I went through was somehow worse, I’m just trying to let you know that you’re not alone. And that it is a hundred gil and twenty more okay that you can’t stomach _that_.” she vaguely referenced to the rope as she shifted her voice to a more cheery one. “I’ll even throw in another twenty for good measure. It’s okay and it will always be okay.”

  
  


He smiled softly at the regional phrase she had picked up somewhere in her travels. It sounded like something someone from Ul’dah would say and he mused for a moment her attempting to learn it with her thick Ishgardian accent he had been told time and time again she had during her first few months of adventuring. His grin widened and she looked at him curiously with eyebrow quirked.  
  


  
“What?”  
  
  
“Nothing,” G’raha replied with a slight giggle and a wave of relief as his mind focused on her and all she was. From every triumph and misstep he had ever read, witnessed, and been told to every tender moment and soft daydreams of his mind, he wanted to be her everything as she had become to him. There was a desire still to triumph in his own way and improve himself to the person he believed she deserved. It was more than a desire. It was a need.  
  


  
“I wish to be enough.”  
  
  


The thought came out unexpectedly as he lost himself in her eyes and a sorrowful glimmer shown in his own. The truth always slipped from him eventually and now was as good of a time as any to reveal the conviction of his heart. He had not the energy to take it back or deny it, though he might try later, but the relief of revealing himself so suddenly was enough to free him from a weight he forgot he was carrying.

  
Japhinne stared at him for a handful of heartbeats as the impact of his honestly hit her like an ice spell to the face. It was sobering despite her already being aware of how little he valued himself regularly and it made her realize how much she had failed on her own part in this relationship.  
  


  
“Raha,” the elezen said gently with her hand caressing his cheek, “You _are_.”

**Author's Note:**

> My apologies if there are any errors. As always, I will try to catch them in the morning.
> 
> I recently received a remark about how I write femdom and yet haven't written a full bondage scene with Japh and Raha yet. Technically, In Your Control was a fic written with a prototype of Japhinne in my head and I feel somewhat counts even if I kept the WoL generic. (also, you do not need bondage and the like to qualify for femdom. I focus on the more gentle side and Japhinne is trying to ease Raha slowly into it overall.) However, there is a reason I haven't written it solidly yet in their canon and that is as above, I don't feel G'raha would be ready for such a thing after being taken by Emet. Japhinne likes to cross boundaries and push buttons, but in this situation she would be as gingerly as possible and even avoid the subject all together since she values Raha's security far too much. He went through who-knows-how-long of hell and she knows it. 
> 
> However, that doesn't always stop a victim from trying to push to reclaim what was taken from/tainted for them. And I would like to show G'raha having that moment even if it can't be with rope like he originally intended, but I and Japhinne would also like him doing it more for himself than her. So hopefully I can capture that <3
> 
> This overall is in major contrast to the AU I am currently writing, so if you want full blown kinky BDSM and bondage, please look forward to the AU once I have written enough to comfortable start scheduling chapters.
> 
> The next chapter will be from Japhinne's POV.
> 
> Thank you for reading <3


End file.
